Tales of Winter
by lost-yet-found
Summary: There is cold and there is snow. Everyone has a different opinion on them. And I suppose the Marauders and Harry do too.
1. Remus & Harry

Hi everyone! nn THIS is just a group of short stories that I wrote in my spare time. I hope you enjoy theeeem. Feedback for the whole thing, a single one, or whatever you feel like feedback-ing on, would be greatly appreciated. These aren't long, soooo, you should be done with them in a short five to ten minute time.

**Disclaimer:** Nothing that reminds you of Harry Potter in this fic belongs to me. If it did, well, I would be writing the next one, now wouldn't I?

* * *

**Snow**

Snow is like memories.

The flakes pack together on the hard surface of your mind and stay there until the rays of another lick at the ice, melting it away and melding it deep within your consciousness. A flower will bloom in its place where you can pluck at it anytime, delving into what was, be it happy or sad.

This was not a rare occurrence for Remus Lupin, who often found himself staring within the depths of his memories, reliving what he wished could have lasted forever.

This was not to be. Nothing ever was.

His memories were merely snowflakes.

Always melting away.

--

**Ice**

Harry wonders why Christmas isn't everyday of his life.

He watches the soft flurry of snow descend upon Hogwarts and wonders if his father ever once thought the same thing.

But it wasn't as if he'd ever know.

James was dead after all.

Harry lay a hand upon the smooth and chilly glass, slowing sliding it downward and watching the white imprints follow, then fade, leaving the barely visible traces of his fingers.

"Hey! Harry!"

The scarred boy turned; slightly startled out of his musings by the jovial voice that was always Ron Weasley.

"Yeah?"

"I believe Angelina is having a possible aneurysm. She wants you down at the field! Quidditch practice, you know."

He did know, but that didn't mean he had to say anything.

"All right. Tell her to hold on and I'll be there in a minute."

Ron merely nodded and ran out the common room, waving one last time before being consumed by the portrait as it shut.

Harry turned back to the window, exhaled softly, and watched as his breath spread across the window before following suit of his fingers and becoming the oxygen that circled around him.

Staring at the falling snow one last time, Harry stood up and focused on what was behind it.

The lake glistened with freshly packed snow, lying atop the frozen ice.

It was like his life.

It'd eventually break too.


	2. Sirius & Peter

**Falling**

Sirius Black wondered where snow went after it melted.

Did it really just become water all over again, become the clouds and recycle itself? Leading a life as a mere boring and continuos cycle, never stopping, never heeding the warning that warmth brought as summer neared its time.

Sirius stared up at the smoky gray sky, ignoring his royal red scarf as it twisted and tugged at his neck, persisting to him that it wished to join the wind and ride it with utmost grace, which was impossible. The wind did not carry away things in grace, it carried away things in utter chaos and flinging aforementioned things at poor, oblivious bystanders, knocking them off their feet and causing them to fall onto whatever uncomfortable being is below them, either it be jagged rocks or James.

The thought of James brought up another blast of blinding fury and he huffed, shoving his numb fists into his robe pockets and continued to trudge through the knee-high snow.

Stupid James.

Stupid Lily.

Stupid love.

It wasn't that he hated Lily, and it wasn't that he hated James either. It was that he hated love, having never truly gotten it in his life.

Well, he had, just not after first year.

He scuffed his boot-covered foot against the snow, badly stubbing his toe and causing him to fall forward.

Snow shoved its way up every hole it could, through his mouth, nostrils, even tried his eyes though he would not let it. He'd like to keep his eyeballs as frostbite-less as possible, thankyouverymuch.

He tried to scream out, but it was muffled, he then tried to get up, but he found his legs too deep within the snow, and then he realized how stupid he probably looked.

He really needed a Moony at this point.

"Well, don't you look idiotic? Trip over your feet again, did you? And I suppose the great Padfoot needs no help?"

Oh, thank all the deities--A Moony had come at last!

If only he sounded less cruel.

"MOONY!" he tried to cry though it sounded more like, "MROORY!" But he guessed it didn't matter, the werewolf would hopefully get the point.

He swore he heard Remus smirk, _heard him smirk_, and felt the surprisingly strong arms wrap around his own, pulling him out from the evil snow that had begun to slowly suffocate him.

Evil Snow.

Stupid love.

"Well, there you are. Welcome to the land of the living, Padfoot! How was limbo?"

"Cold. And filled with sweater vests. Will you shut up?"

"Ah, touchy are we?"

Sirius did not reply to this, just hurriedly began to make his way back to the castle. He'd need a long, warm shower after this.

And some chocolate.

Maybe he'd snatch some from Remus.

Stupid Werewolf.

--

**Cocoa**

Peter liked cocoa.

It was the one thing that could soothe him at all times.

Well, besides pudding.

And cake.

But that was beside the point.

He took a long, drawn out swig from his mug and sighed, closing his eyes and opening them as he felt the warmth gather at his stomach and spread throughout his body. This was the life.

He wondered where James and Sirius were.

"Off hexing Snape, I suppose." Remus answered his unsaid question, not looking up from his parchment and continued to scribble down answers.

Oh.

Of course.

They were always doing that together. He should have known.

"Remus, do you think I'm annoying?" he suddenly asked, surprised at his sudden boldness.

Remus frowned, not looking up still, and after a second more of scribbling, answered with a simple, "No Wormtail."

It answered Peter's question.

Yes.

At least the cocoa didn't care.

He took another quick swig, draining what was left of the mug's continents and rubbed his left arm.

He couldn't be THAT annoying.

At least not to _him_.


End file.
